The oddieties of Harry Potter
by sotarbarn
Summary: What if Petunia Dursley didn't hate her nephew? What if she didn't hate Lily Potter? What if all her hatred was to a Albus Dumbledoor who had stolen her sister and now wanted her nephew? follow us as the Life of Harry J Potter unfolds. Dumble Bashing all characters used are OC!
1. So the Story starts

AN: I Don't own any of the Harry Potter characters those all belongs to the amazing J.K Rowling. I do own the plot behind my fan fiction. All characters will be OC from J.K.R's plot. Bold parts are from the first chapter out of _Harry Potter and The Philosophers stone_.

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_September 15th 1980_

_Dear Pet._

_The last of July I had a baby Boy, he is very handsome with green eyes like mine and unruly red-brown hair. We named him Harry James Potter, Harry is after our dear father Harold. I hope you are having a splendid time in France, I so wish I could had come with you to that academy then I wouldn't have to write this letter to you with these sad news. I have to go into hiding with James the mad man Voldemort is after us due to little Harry, we are going to use Peter as our secret keeper since Sirius would be a to obvious choice. Albus thinks its for the best that I cease all contact with anyone for our safety. In case we die I want you to take Harry in and raise him as if he would be your own. I know this might be to much to ask you with your job at the ministry there and all. But please I beg of you as your little sister in case something happens I want my son to be safe._

_Your Beloved Sister_

_Lillian Potter._

Petunia Evans sighed as she read the letter she had received from her sister that morning, joyed she had had the baby yet sad that Dumbledoor had made them do that. She downed her last tea before she went off to work.

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_October 15th 1981_

_Pet I fear it's happening now. Peter keeps disappearing to some mysterious work he has, please come home and prepare to take harry in!_

_Lilly._

Petunia Evans was livid as she read this letter she quickly flooed to the office she worked at to give her a time off to prepare what she needed before she took off to her family home in England. She bought a few newspapers and scanned them reading of a Mrs. Dursley that died a few days prior leaving a husband and child after her. She quickly apparated to the address they lived at before she obliviated the man and child of the memory of the accident telling them she was their wife and mother Petunia Dursley. From there she penned a quick note to her sister.

_4 private drive Surrey I'm ready._

She left no sender because she knew her sister would know what that meant before she left off to do muggle things.

And so it begins she thought

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**Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say they were perfectly normal thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense. Mr Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large moustache. Mrs Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere. The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that someone would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs Potter was in fact Mrs Dursleys sister But they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with a child like that. When Mr and Mrs Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would be happening all over the country. Mr Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work and Mrs Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.**

**None of them noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window. At half past eight, Mr Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs Dursley on the cheek and tried to kiss Dudley goodbye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal up the walls. **'**Little tyke,' chortled Mr Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive.** **It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar – a cat reading a map. ****For a second, Mr Dursley didn't realise what he had seen – then he jerked his head around to look again. There was the tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back.** **As Mr Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said **_**Privet Drive – **_**no,** _**looking **_**at the sign; cats couldn't read maps **_**or **_**signs. Mr Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. ****As he drove towards town he thought of nothing except the large order of drills he was hoping to get that day. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of the weirdo's standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt**. **But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes – the get-ups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. ** – **these people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on, and a few minutes later, Mr Dursley arrived in the Grunnings car park, his mind back on drills. ****Mr Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. **_**He **_**didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most had never even seen an owl at night-time. ****Mr Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. ****He was in a very good mood until lunch-time when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the baker's opposite.**

**He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. ****He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This lot were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying. ****'The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard – **

**' '– yes, their son, Harry –'**

**Mr Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it. He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, and snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone and had almost finished dialling his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his moustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't such an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew **_**was **_**called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold.** **There was no point in worrying Mrs Dursley, she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her – if **_**he'd **_**had a sister like that... but all the same, those people in cloaks... ****He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon, and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door. 'Sorry,' he grunted, ****as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr Dursley realised that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passers-by stare: **

**'Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!'**

**And the old man hugged Mr Dursley around the middle and walked off**. **Mr Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.** **As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw – and it didn't improve his mood – was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around the eyes.** **'Shoo!' said Mr Dursley loudly. The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behaviour, Mr Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, as he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife. Mrs Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learnt a new word ('Shan't!'). Mr Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living-room in time to catch the last report on the evening news: 'And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.' The news reader allowed himself a grin. 'Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?' 'Well, Ted,' said the weatherman, 'I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far as Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've ****had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Bight early – it's not till next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight.' Mr Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters... **

**Mrs Dursley came into the living-room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. 'Er – Petunia, dear – you haven't heard from your sister lately. Have you?' **

**As he expected, Mrs Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.**

**'No,' she said sharply. 'Why?'**

**'Funny stuff on the news,' Mr Dursley mumbled. 'Owls ... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today ...'**

**'**_**So?**_**' snapped Mrs Dursley.**

**'Well, I just thought ... maybe ... it was something to do with ... you know ... **_**her lot**_**.'**

**Mrs Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr Dursley wondered if he dared tell her he'd heard the name 'Potter'. He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, 'Their son – he'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't he?'**

**'I suppose so,' said Mrs Dursley stiffly.**

**'What's his name again? Howard, isn't it?'**

**'Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me.'**

**'Oh yes,' said Mr Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. 'Yes, I quite agree.' **

**He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it was waiting for something. **

**Was he imaging things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did ... if it got out that they were related to a pair of – well, he didn't think he could bear it. **

**The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters **_**were**_** involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind ... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on. He yawned and turned over. It couldn't affect **_**them... **_

**How very wrong he was.**

**Mr Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside showed no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed in the next street, now when two owls swooped over head. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all. **

**A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.**

**Nothing like this man had ever been seen in Privet Drive. **

**He was tall, thin and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which was long enough to tuck in his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple clack which swept the ground and high-heeled buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.**

**Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realise that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realise he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, 'I should have known.'**

**He had found was he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it open, held it up in the air and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again – the next lamp flickered into darkness, twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left in the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, **

**which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street towards number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.**

**'Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.'**

**He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald green one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun.**

**She looked distinctly ruffled.**

**'How did you know it was me?' she asked.**

**'My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly.'**

**'You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day,' said Professor McGonagall.**

**'All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here.'**

**Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily**

**'Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right,' she said impatiently. 'You'd think they'd be a little more careful, but no – even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news.' She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. 'I heard it. Flocks of owls ... shooting stars ... Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent – I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle he never had much sense.'**

**'You can't blame them,' said Dumbledore gently. 'We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years.'**

**'I know that,' said Professor McGonagall irritably. 'But that's no reason to lose our heads. People being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumours.'**

**She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on: 'A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggle found out about us all. I suppose he really **_**has**_ **gone, Dumbledore?**

**'It certainly seems so,' said Dumbledore. 'We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a sherbet lemon?'**

**'A **_**what**_**?'**

**'A sherbet lemon. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of.'**

**'No, thank you,' said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think this was the moment for sherbet lemons. 'As I say, even if You-Know-Who **_**has**_ **gone –'**

**'My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this "You-Know-Who" nonsense**

– **for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: **_**Voldemort**_**.' Professor McGonagall flinched but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two sherbet lemons, seemed not to notice. 'It all gets so confusing if we keep saying "You-Know-Who".' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name.'**

**'I know you haven't,' said Professor McGonagall, sounding half-exasperated, half-admiring. 'But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know – oh, all right, **_**Voldemort**_ – **was frightened of.' **

**'You flatter me,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'Voldemort had powers I will never have.'**

**'Only because you're too – well – **_**noble**_ **to use them.'**

**'It's lucky its dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs.'**

**Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, 'The owls are nothing to the **_**rumours**_** that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?'**

**It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the points she was most anxious to discus, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever 'everyone' was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another sherbet lemon and did not answer.**

**'What they're **_**saying**_**, 'she pressed on, 'is that last night Voldemort turned p in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumour is that Lily and James Potter are**

– **that they're – **_**dead**_**.'**

**Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped. **

**'Lily and James ... I can't believe it ... I didn't want to believe it ... Oh, Albus ...'**

**Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. 'I know ... I know ...' he said heavily.**

**Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. 'That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potters' son, Harry.**

**But – he couldn't. He couldn't kill the little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke – and that's why he's gone.'** **Dumbledore nodded glumly.**

**'It's – it's **_**true**_**?' faltered Professor McGonagall. 'After all he's done ... all the people he's killed ... he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding ... of all the things to stop him ... but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?' **

**'We can only guess,' said Dumbledore. 'We may never know.'**

**Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took out a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It has twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, 'Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?'**

**'Yes,' said Professor McGonagall. 'And I don't suppose you're going to tell me **_**why **_**you're here, of all places?'**

**'I've come to bring Harry to his aunt and 're the only family he has left now.''You don't mean – you **_**can't**_ **mean the people who live **_**here**_**?' cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four.**

'**Dumbledore – you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son – I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!'**

**'It's the best place for him,' said Dumbledore firmly. 'His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter.' **

**'A letter?' repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. 'Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous – a legend – I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter Day in the future – there will be books written about Harry – ever child in our world will know his name!' 'Exactly,' said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. 'It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't even remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?' Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed and then said, 'Yes – yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?' She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it. **

**'Hagrid's bringing him.'**

**'You think it – **_**wise **_– **to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?'**

**'I would trust Hagrid with my life,' said Dumbledore.**

**'I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place,' said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, 'but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to – what was that?'**

**A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky – a huge motorbike fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.**

**If the motorbike was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so **_**wild**_ – **long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of dustbin lids and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. **

**In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.**

**'Hagrid,' said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. 'At last. And where did you get that motorbike?'**

**'Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir,' said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorbike as he spoke. 'Young Sirius Black lent it me. I've got him, sir.' **

**'No problems, were there?' **

**'No, sir – house was almost destroyed but I got him out of all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol.'**

**Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.**

**'Is that where - ?' whispered Professor McGonagall.**

**'Yes,' said Dumbledore. 'He'll have that scar forever.'**

**'Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?'**

**'Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in useful. I have one myself above my left knee which is a perfect map of the London Underground. **

**Well – give him here, Hagrid – we'd better get this over with.'**

**Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned towards the Dursleys' house. **

**'Could I – could I say goodbye to him, sir?' asked Hagrid**

**He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very, scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.**

**'Shhh!' hissed Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out. **

**'Well,' said Dumbledore finally, 'that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations.'**

**'Yeah,' said Hagrid in a very muffled voice. 'I'd best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall – Professor Dumbledore, sir.'**

**Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself on to the motorbike and kicked the engine into like; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.**

**'I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall,' said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply. **

**Dumbledore turned and walked down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could just make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.**

**'Good luck, Harry,' he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak he was gone.**

**A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley ... He couldnt know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up glasses and saying in hushed voices: 'To Harry Potter – the boy who lived!'**

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Never would they know that No4 Private Drive would be vacant of 2 persons the very next morning. Petunia easily obliviated the knowledge she and Harry existed from Vernon and Dudley's minds before she disappeared out from the door to never been seen by them again. She took them both to live in her residence in France under the names of Evans.

So our story starts of one Harry Potter


	2. Time Flys

AN:Thank you for the wonderful reviews. I am terribl7y sorry it has taken this long to update the story but some personal health issues stopped me.

Also I Don't own any of the Harry Potter characters those all belongs to the amazing J.K Rowling. I do own the plot behind my fan fiction. All characters will be OC from J.K.R's plot.

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_Last time:_

_Petunia easily obliviated the knowledge she and Harry existed from Vernon and Dudley's minds before she disappeared out from the door to never been seen by them again. She took them both to live in her residence in France under the names of Evans._

_So our story starts of one Harry Potter_

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**Times Fly**

**March 3rd 1961**

Petunia and Lilly where playing with their dolls in the living room as their father entered the study and sat down handing Petunia 2 letters. 'Petunia your acceptance letters came one is from Beauxbatons in France where your mother went the other is from a school in Italy since per my and your mothers request you will not attend Hogwarts where Lilly will go as a muggle born.' Both girls nodded they had known this since they where 5 they would go to different schools and now that Petunia was old enough Lily would b moving to their relatives in Britain to maintain the family's looks of being dead since long. The Evans was a old family and witches and wizards had existed in it just as long as the Potter line but when Voldemort had his up rise the family had staged their deaths and moved to Andorra and lived a quiet life since. Their mother was a half veela hence why they had fled.

(A veela was a creature mostly a woman who had a great allure on men. They are very charismatic and it's said that it was veela who got mistaken for being Sirens in the ancient Greek mythology. When a veela gets enraged she turns into a harpy-like creature and is notorious for throwing fireballs with her bare hands. Of course there are also male veelas.)

Lilly and Petunia where there for quarter veela and very temperamental you ladies. Petunia read her letters and tired hard to decide on what school to go to before she choose her mothers old school of Beauxbatons. 'Father I have decided to enter Beauxbatons for my studies.' She informed her father later on that day.

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**July 26th 1961**

Petunia and Lilly where hugging each other crying today Petunia would go to her school and Lily would go to England to live with their distant relatives. 'Lilly Promise me to be strong for our family's sake. And write to me every week using the muggle mail system.' Petunia said before the sisters where parted to never see each other again alive.

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**November 15th 1981**

Petunia Evans walked into her office at the ministry with a toddler in her arms she sighed and looked into the Emerald green eyes of the little boy before she waved her wand and transfigured her trash bin into a stroller for the boy and sat him down in it. She looked around at the office and smiled slightly. She nodded slowly before she sat down and read the papers on her desk once in a while glancing at Harry walking around in the room playing with himself. She was determined to find out what had happened with his godfather. Scanning the papers in front of her she frowned. Sirius had not been the secret keeper, Peter had. She dug up the notes from Lilly grabbed baby Harry and walked to the ministers office and knocked on his door.

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**December 18th 1981**

For the first time in years Petunia had decorated for the Christmas season something she hadn't done since her parents passed away a decade earlier. Harry had brought so much joy to her life since he came just a month before she glanced to the toddler as he was playing with his plush stag on the floor. Petunia let him bring it as they went to the ministry again that day to pick a Mr. Black up after plenty of haggling the British government had realized the man was innocent and released him and putting up a warrant for a certain rat instead. So here Petunia stood with a toddler and a werewolf waiting on Sirius to arrive for the Christmas holidays and to move to France so they could help her with young Harry.

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**January 27th 1982**

Petunia was panicking as Harry refused to stop crying and his scar had started bleeding out of nowhere. Fire calling the Black-Lupin residence they decided to try the goblins as with the two oldest wizard families and the sole heir to all three of them they couldn't trust just about anyone with this kind of things. So they met up at Gringotts with Harry still crying loudly and asked the Goblins for help.

After many hours the Goblin healer came back to the odd family and looked at them before he started to tell them of why young Harry was crying. 'You see the scar Voldemort left behind has a piece of his very soul in it something called a Horcrux. Our best guess to why the child is crying is that he relives the moment it was created. But since it is still rather fresh and hasn't rooted down so deep yet we can remove it and should solve the crying otherwise this is one healthy and powerful young one you have.' The Goblins sated nonchalantly as it was a everyday thing.

Lupin was the first to ask the question on all of their minds. 'What is a Horcrux?'

This earned him a death glare from the goblin and a yet simpler explanation. 'a Horcrux is a very dark ritual which rips ones soul to shards to gain some form of immortality. But for this to happen one must commit a mortal sin, a killing. Now one piece of Voldemort's souls infest the wound on the babes head and we want to start a ritual to remove it.' The goblin looked at them all like they where stupid. 'And we offer this because the babe is the sole hair to all three of the ancient families.' he continued earning a nod form the three adults before he was handed Harry to perform his ritual of sorts.

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**Outside the Ritual Room Gringotts**

Petunia looked at Sirius and Remus before she looked at her hands. 'we should have checked the scar earlier.' she whispered out knowing the two men where listening.

Sirius looked at her and sighed. 'We couldn't have known Pet.. at least we shouldn't let the boy near Hogwarts right?' he asked glancing at her which earned him growl from Remus. 'no if no other school wants him I shall school him.' he stated grimly leaving no room for arguments.

Petunia broke in here. ' no we shall contact Baubaxton and Drumstang amongst other schools in Europe. Who wouldn't want the 'Boy-who-lived at their school?' with that the conversation strayed to lighter topics until the Goblin c me back out with young Harry.

TBC...

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End file.
